Winter Soldier Sequel: Deus Ex Machina
by Bobby Redshirt
Summary: Kax Autto of the former IMC has enlisted with the Militia beside his once thought to be dead girlfriend, Alice Reins. Together, they join the desperate fight of humanity against the rise of Spyglasses machines. Now more than ever, humanity needs Titan pilots of grit, determination, brilliance, and the dream of peace on the frontier.
1. Chapter 1

Titanfall Winter Soldier Sequel Deus ex Machina

The ship rattled with a nervous tick just before the intermediate jump into the atmosphere. New grunt recruits leaned over their knees and vomited on the floor. An experienced IMC pilot who may be dead in the next few moments simply wiped the vomit on his boot onto the pant leg of some very sick grunt. The nauseous sting of the regurgitated Militia food pierced my nose and I felt my eyes gently water. Somebody was also complaining down the hull of the ship that the grunt next to him had pissed his pants. We were a big boatful of humanity coming down on the planet to fight for our very survival against an onslaught of rampant machines.

An ancient earthborn author named Hemingway said that "Man is not made for defeat." The terrible smell of biology in this troop transport may have proved those words ironic. But that same author wrote that "in modern war . . . you will die like a dog for no good reason." Why this literature came into my mind at this time I could not explain. Something about this new engagement made war look back at itself for the first time in a long time. People have fought for as long as we could remember. We fought back home, we fought after we crossed into a new frontier of space. But this time around, in this modern war, the whole of humanity might die like a dog for no good reason at the hands of their own creation—machines.

In one of the greatest disasters of human history, the artificial intelligence of the IMC, Vice Admiral Spyglass, turned on its operators and obliterated them and as many as it could of human pieces of the IMC. Spyglass dissolved the IMC and then declared war on the entire human race. Spectres and Automated Titans equipped with the advanced combat synthesizer called the Andromeda Relay, began attacking Militia and civilian outposts all across the frontier. They replicated what they did to their IMC compounds and smothered them with human blood before committing those bases to the production of yet more Spectres and titans. Spyglass was growing his army like a virus across the galaxy. It was up to me and this band of new recruits to sedate the mechanical disease and bring it to heel. If we lost, if we failed our mission—it unnerved me to think of the consequences.

Despite all this grim terror gripping me, I looked next to me at the most beautiful woman on the Frontier: 2nd Lieutenant Alice Reins of the former IMC. She had faked her death to escape the fury of the second titan wars and I was vexed as well. She came back for me though and pulled me from the brink of a catastrophic battle on Sandtrap, where a majority of human IMC military forces were attacked by IMC Spectres and auto-titans. We had decided at a pub in Smuggler's Cove to never to be separated again and enlisted with the Militia. I abhorred the green and orange colors they made us wear but I had no choice. I was in their army now.

The ship continued to shutter and shift the vomit on the floor. Finally, the grunt sergeant yelled for the pilots to exit in ten seconds. The landing zone would be hot. The robots had already made it clear they were not going to relinquish this ground easily. I reached to take Alice's hand in mine. Her familiar fingers slid into my gloves and squeezed tightly. She leaned close and whispered to me through her helmet.

"What was that saying you said you learned when you were in the Crows?"

" _videmus mortuis_. It means 'we see the dead."

Alice then looked up at me, "I don't see a dead man. Be brave out there Kax."

"Be bold, Alice. I love you."

The green light switched on and the ramp dropped to reveal the gates of hells gaping wide for us. Bullet tracers and rockets screamed through the air. The smoke of war billowed into the ashen sky. The pilots never looked back and they ran and jumped out of the Militia transport. Alice and I followed them. The blood thundered through my veins as the wind whipped at my gear. I held tight to my G2A4 rifle. Ten notches marked ten head shots on Militia pilots. I wasn't going to discriminate for these worthless Spectres either. The ground rushed to my feet but before all the bones in my legs and pelvis were shattered from a high altitude jump, I fired my stealth jump kit to land as soft as a kitten: a bloodied, profanity spewing kitten. But this place was not safe for a kitten. Right as we hit the ground, the Spectres had us zeroed and opened up their automatic weapons on us. One pilot took several bullets to the chest and fell like a sack of potatoes. Another man injected stim and ran for cover with his elbow dangling in the wind.

Alice and I activated our cloaks before we landed and ran to hit the flanks. The other pilots did the same and it was not long before the Spectres that had us in the kill zone were a jumbled line of scrap metal. A dot highlighted on our HUDs in our helmets and we rushed to the rendezvous point. On the way to receive our orders in the combat zone I finally realized what kind of battle we landed in. We were on a grassy knoll where the tree line ended and a coastal city lay besieged. Large roads were cloaked with smoke and burnt vehicles. Industrial warehouses burned next to small shops. This city on the side of a mountain must have made large exports in a seemingly boom-town. Any other grunt would never have concluded that with the chaos engulfing it in flames and titans.

The dot suddenly disappeared from our HUD as an explosion lit up the morning. I feared our commanding officer had been eliminated from the equation but his desperate voice came on the comm.

"Rally point ambushed—get into the city pilots. Command wants a sweep and clean of robots. Don't give them another inch. Queens, out."

Like the unleashing of a hundred hunting hounds, pilot weapons erupted on the advancing Spectre units. Alice's Spitfire LMG had an especially menacing bark. She held down the trigger as the aim steadied into a deadly stream of death. I spotted a couple of Spectres on top of one of the building. They were lining up a bead on a couple of advancing pilots who heedless of their demise. I shouldered my G2A4 rifle and snapped the triangle of the HCOG sight onto the pie-slice shaped skull of the first Spectre. Three snap shots and the machine buckled behind the ledge. The next Spectre fired only one burst before a pilot scaled the ledge and delivered a fierce kick into its side. Thus, humanity pushed back with a counter attack for the first time against the machines this day.

But the achievements were to be short lived. A dropship spun out of the sky and collided into a building. I saw a titan dash behind a building only to be flanked by a robotic Stryder. The pilot was ripped from the hull and crushed in merciless claws. Alice saw the same event and activated her jumpkit to run along the damaged buildings until she could land on top of the Stryder titan. With her cloak activated, she landed and promptly ripped off the top panel leading to the main circuitry of the titan. I kept watch on her six as she dipped her LMG down into the sprinting metal beast. She activated the poison in fire and shell casings. It tried to buck and swerve but her strong arms and legs held tight as the LMG continued to administer justice. Finally the Stryder dropped its weapon and fell face down. Alice used the momentum to shoot forward and landed into a roll just as the machine burst into flames.

"Good God," I thought, "I have one _fiene freundin_." I could not stare for long, a Spectre stepped out of a building and aimed at her. She turned with her pistol but did not get a shot off. I had already landed four hits into the metal soldier and it fell back into the doorway. We gave each other a nod and as she reloaded her LMG I took off to try and keep the pressure on the machines. I fired the jumpkit and got to a six story building and leaned against an electronic billboard that advertised a soda with a family drinking unaware of the death around them. I leaned out and my stomach dropped into my shoes.

A black wave of robots marched down the street. Titans waded in the shimmering black and steel water. The Spectres were pulling civilians from their homes and vehicles and gunning them down, or worse, ripping limbs or organs from their screaming bodies. Rage detonated my heart and demanded I go down there and end the insanity. Luckily, my brain took back the reins and I began to formulate a plan. A glance at my wrist map showed the other pilots were working along the left flank of the mountain face while the grunts were trying to hold their own in the center. A snap shattered my ears and instincts made me dive behind the billboard. Another singular shot sent sparks all around me. With the ringing still in my ears, I jumped and ran along the billboard and leapt into the sky away from the sniper. Another arrow cloud hissed my shoulder but I landed into a circular courtyard. I didn't know if the sniper had elevation to still fire down upon me so I charged with my shoulder through the door. It burst open and Spectres were firing at grunts out the window. I fired what was left in the magazine in my rifle to drop one of the robots but as its fellows turned to kill me I had out my Hammond pistol and pulled the trigger as fast as it would let me. Two more hit the floor but the bullets came back at me. I ducked back into the doorway to slide another clip into the pistol. An explosion blew pieces of furniture and drywall all around me. I came out of cover with my Hammond ready but there were no more Spectres.

A couple of grunts came in another door and cleared the room. One turned to her buddy, "nice going Kim, that was a slick throw."

The other grunt blushed, "thanks, I'm just glad I didn't drop it."

"Wait—did you hear that?" They turned their guns at where I used to be standing. I passed in between them and they never saw me.

"God, feels like there are ghosts in this room." Kim whispered. I gave an evil laugh as I slipped out the window. Before I ignited the jumpkit to get back into the fray I heard the two women jump.

I had to find that sniper before he ended any pilots who were unaware. Titans dropped into the war zone from the grey horizon. Their tremendous clashes shook the buildings as I ran on the walls. My cloak ended and I had to get back to cover. I dove through a window just as a burst of enemy chaingun fire rapped the wall. I kept my head down and waited until the ringing in my ears dissipated.

An angel spoke into my head. "Kax, we need help here down by the docks. Corbin is down and Maddy is wounded." Corbin and Maddy, I remembered they were the brand new Militia pilots. Kids almost.

"Alright, just keep your head down, Alice. A Spectre has a Longbow Rifle in between us." "Roger that. Get here soon because we might need another titan soon."

A few seconds passed as I ran through the building and checked the windows. "Kax, make that really fast. Yeah, we need another titan now!"

I doubled my pace. A couple blood soaked corpses littered the hall; grunts who gave their lives against the Spectre horde. I tried to carefully step around them in reverence. An ironic thought struck me that moment. If Spyglass had not orchestrated the betrayal of the IMC, I may have actually murdered those grunts in the hall, even those two women who had saved me from the Spectres in the building prior. It would have been my heart that killed them.

"Autto, heard you were looking for a sniper? We made it into recycling in the electronics store. Ryder out."

Jeremiah Ryder was one of the few pilots that came out of the funeral pyre of the IMC. He knew he was taking a big risk like Alice and I did to enlist with the Militia. He believed Marcus Graves like I did, but he said many others were still skeptical and held onto their grudges against the Militia. At least that gave me hope that some had made it.

I thanked Rider and jumped headlong out of a window. Smoke rushed into my lungs as the glass fell into the burning streets. I activated the jumpkit to quietly run on the side of the building until I arrived to Alice's battle. And she sure knew how to pick them. The side of that black wave crashed against the muzzle fire and tracers of dogmatic Militia forces. Amazingly, the factory was still standing with three robotic titans laying all their firepower into it. Alice had to be pinned down inside. She couldn't risk a rodeo right there without the two others turning to terminate her. Let alone the swarm of Spectres.

I tapped my earpiece. "Sid, what do I have on deck?"

My specially programmed titan AI from the black market growled into my ear, " _A Stryder titan equipped with quad rocket launcher. So with your piloting skills I won't be in this battle but five seconds_."

"Make that seven seconds Sid, drop into battle on my mark." I took out my G2A4 rifle to make my coordinates accurate. I aimed at one of the auto-titans standing like a silly statue.

"Right there Sid. Bring it fast." I started to run off the roof of the building I knew it would be fast. I could feel the air being sucked in like a giant breath. A sonic boom was that release and two second later a Stryder Titan dropped in front of me. My ears thundered like a million mad bells as I slipped through the dome shield and landed on top of the Stryder. As the Stryder stood and lent a hand for me to jump into the cockpit I glanced the smoking remains of the auto-titan crumpled around the feet. The shredded metal still glowed orange hot. My first time in a Militia built titan felt squeezed. Militia parts were not as advanced or streamlined in the cockpit at the IMC had. A titan cockpit in the IMC was a coffin no doubt, but this setup was a damn vice. Not to mention the cheap seating that chaffed the backside. The view of the domeshield and the impending battle flickered to life on the screens in front of me. Bullets raked the blue sphere around my titan.

" _Warning! You are outnumbered, two to one_ ," Sid said out of standard. Then he added with a technological smirk, " _but I'm sure you'll do juuust fine_."

I took another grip on the controls and tightened my knees.

"Then watch me."


	2. Chapter 2

Deus Ex Machina chapter 2

I held down the trigger on the rapid fire quad rocket until the magazine was entirely empty. The Atlas nearest lost its shields and its return fire with its Plasma Railgun only blazed air. I dashed in a zig-zag line as my Stryder titan reloaded the quad rocket launcher. A constant vibration rattled my legs as the titan's leg servos clattered against the sea of Spectres marching along the port of this export town. The second titan was an Ogre blasting at my shields with an X0-16 Chaingun. Reloaded, the quad rocket went back to the Atlas with the decimated shields. The plasma railgun seemed to be clumsily handled in the Auto-titan's hands as the rockets rained down on the armor from all sides. The Ogre was trying to cover the other but I moved too quickly to be damaged severely. The Atlas exploded into two pieces and I turned my attention to the Ogre. Suddenly, a rocket barrage took out the last of my shields. The Ogre had finally keyed on me and bullets racked the armor of my cockpit. Sid growled into my earpiece, "Boss, you have enemy Spectres on your titan. I suggest removing them before I catch something." Just as he said that a Spectre on the visual screens was climbing on the left arm of my titan. It took out a blow torch and cut into the elbow circuits. Thumps resounded in my cockpit as more were climbing onto the top of the hull. It would not be long before they would start firing their weapons into the main circuitry. With a quick flick of my wrist I made the Stryder activate the vortex shield. The Spectre was sucked into the magnetic disc emanating from the open palm of the left hand. The Spectre swirled along with the incoming hail of bullets from the Ogre titan. I aimed carefully and released the lead and Spectre back at the Ogre. The shields went away on my enemy but the Ogre still had plenty of armor underneath to grind through. My entire cockpit vibrated as the bullets from the Spectres on top. The overall health of my Stryder titan deteriorated rapidly and Sid was beginning to sound even more aggressive in my ear.

 _"These Spectres will suffer the consequences of our wrath, boss. They will be terminated with extreme prejudice."_

However, the bigger problem was the two hundred ton angry machine firing fifteen hundred rounds a minute at me. I dashed to get close on its flank and unloaded the entire magazine in the quad rocket launcher. I had even maneuvered the Stryder behind the Ogre and laid into the enemy titan with a salvo of guided rockets. The knees staggered on the big titan but it still continued to fight. My Stryder was not faring much better as warning lights blared into the cockpit. More Spectres climbed onto the hull until everything went quiet. I mean, yes, a deadly battle with an Ogre titan was happening on this dock but Sid was no longer complaining about enemy Spectres on the hull.

I unloaded one last load of rockets into the Ogre and it was about to fall. Fire burst from the ports and sparks ejected from the strained servos. I dashed forward and thought this robot needed to be finished. I made the Stryder titan reach back and then slam its fist into the cockpit of the Ogre. I pulled back and to my surprise a Spectre was piloting the titan. It struggled to free itself from my grasp as I looked closer at it to make sure. My titan was malfunctioning and the vision was flickering inside the cockpit but indeed it was a Spectre. With deft movements with my pinky and ring finger, I made the Stryder put its thumb underneath the chin of the Spectre. It stopped fidgeting and looked straight before I flicked the thumb up and the Spectres head went into the air.

 _"Boss, we have taken major damage due to your human ineptitude. Seek cover for regen."_

"Don't worry, I am not staying long-Alice, do you copy?"

"I'm here. Nice job with the Stryder. We had your back with those Spectres."

"Thanks. I pulled a special Spectre out of that last titan it seems Spyglass has been cooking something up these couple of months."

"That can't be good. There has been some reports of Spectres performing parkour unusual to their animation design."

"Keep your eyes wide open then, I'm coming to join you."

I opened the hatch and leapt out of the Stryder. Smoke and sparks billowed from the ports. The armor was dented and burnt all around and half the left foot was missing.

"Sid, you don't look so good. I want you to engage in follow mode and I'll watch over you."

 _"Your mother said that you didn't look good either, Boss. Engaging follow mode."_

Alice and a couple other pilots came out of the besieged building. Decimated Spectres littered the entire sea-side square. The sounds of battle still echoed eerily between the buildings. The two other pilots were fresh faces as well, but they were not dirty and bloody in their first baptism. They looked at me with wonder while Alice got right to business.

"Kax, the Militia is pulling back. They are giving up this town. We need to move before we are left behind."

"How do you know?"

"I keep my ear on the grunt channels. They have sustained massive casualties and are no longer an effective fighting force."

Just then came the all call from Bish, the tech-wiz guy of the Militia. Somehow that chunky dude was able to bring down the towers at IMC Airbase Sierra. I was not too appreciative of that being that I was there with the IMC's 40th Squadron. "Pilots, we lost this round. We are falling back to the eastern edge of town."

The Special Forces brunette, Sarah, interrupted. "Dropships are on their way pilots. You want to be there to secure the LZ. This evacuation won't be waiting around."

Cheerful _frau_ wasn't she? I looked over at Alice and she winked. And I thought I was the strategy guy. The four of us ignited our jumpkits and a young boy pilot took point. He was decent at parkour and using the timing on his jumpkit. He got a little ahead of us and that turned out to be his downfall. A battle still raged and we were trying to make our way through the flank of Spyglass's forces. Spectres poured out of the buildings and flooded the streets with their malignant, black steel. They upset cars and set them ablaze. They smashed windows with the realest artificial disdain. Almost as if . . . they were once human.

The young pilot jumped off the roof of a building but in his hurry, misjudged the distance to the next office. He stuck his data knife into the wall to try and climb back up but he fell almost right down to the street level. Nothing human was on that level. All the Spectres saw him and aimed their weapons. The three of us on the previous roof aimed our guns down but we were too late. In a short burst, nearly a hundred bullets peppered that poor pilot on point. His body hung to the dataknife for a moment, then let go. His remains disappeared into that black sea. We took cover behind the ledge as to not be seen by the Spectres below. I glanced at my watch.

"We have twenty five seconds until the dropships arrive. That building is where they will be picking us up. We just need to sit tight and-"

Incoming fire racked our position and we dropped to the roof on our bellies. Alice lifted her LMG and began firing.

"Get to cover!" She yelled. "They got the high tower on us, go! Go!"

I darted for the commercial air conditioner unit as the thunderous bark of the Spitfire countered the automatic fire coming from the opposite building. They might be the special Spectres, the pilot kind. I leaned out the side and pulled off a few shots into grey skyline. The broken Spectre fell down eighteen stories. The rumble of titans shook our boots and I glanced at my wrist-map. No friendly titans in the area. We had sixteen seconds until the dropship would come and go. My mind almost froze with dread but I didn't survive the IMC because I was some lily wilting in the sun. Winter knew my name and I knew the cold.

"Sid, are you still there?"

 _"I am still on the ground, Boss."_

"Put all the firepower you got on this coordinates," I pressed my marking button on my helmet that highlighted the higher rooftop where the attacking Spectres barraged us.

"I don't care if another titan comes and takes you out, Sid. Just pour it on right there."

 _"Complying."_

Rockets flew from the street on our flank and while most of them missed into the endless sky, where they would fizzle out and landed like an artillery barrage in some field, a few found their mark. They did not have a chance of killing any of those Spectres at this distance, but Sid's cover would keep their heads down for the chance we needed.

"Ten seconds, Kax. Let's go!" Alice yelled as she slammed another giant box clip into the Spitfire. I ran and jumped off the ledge of the building. Fear clutched my heart; I had just seen a man die when he made this jump. His blood was still painted all along the walls. I hit the jumpkit and did not make the distance to the roof. I smashed into the ledge and grabbed it with my off hand. With a herculean effort I pulled myself up and over the ledge. The barrel of a R-101C lined up with my face. I thought it was over. But a pilot put down his weapon.

"Call your direction bro! I nearly merced you."

"Sorry, bad habit," I apologized. I remembered that moment on Anon II where I landed on a friendly titan but was nearly obliterated by a friendly 40 mm cannon shot. Alice and the other pilot came over the ledge just as the dropships broke through the atmosphere. The other pilot that was with us turned around but he suddenly pitched forward and tumbled over the edge of the building. His scream towards his death was unheard by us. We had to focus on the nineteen Spectres that jumped from the street. They instantly surrounded us and tried to catch us in crossfire. I used the butt of my rifle to knock back the head of the first Spectre that came over the ledge, the one that had murdered the pilot. The face crumpled and it fell to the floor. I leveled my rifle and fired at the side of another Spectre. It took five bullets but it finally went down. Alice kicked one back over the ledge. The roar of the dropship kicked up dust all around us on the roof. Sarah called to all the pilots that our ride was here. More Spectres jumped onto the roof and we had to retreat backwards towards the open doors of the dropship. I took a knee to reload my clip and Alice stood over me with the Spitfire unleashing hell and empty bullet casings.

"Come on, they are taking off!" I yelled went to the dropship. I was the last to get on the ship and it gained altitude. But Alice was not on board.

I turned frantically and she was running towards the ship. Bullet tracers bit at her heels and she ditched the LMG on that roof. I dove onto my belly and screamed to keep the door open. I called her name and she jumped and then hit her jumpkit. Her gloves wrapped into mine and I used all my strength to crush her delicate hand. I would not let go. The other pilots saw I had her and pulled me up to haul her in. We rolled together onto the floor and bullets racked the armor. The engines of the dropship deafened everyone in the hull as the lost battle faded away. Alice and I put our helmets together. We could both hear our breathing through the helmets. We laughed and desperately cried at the same time. Too many close calls in our relationship.

As our dropship was docking, Alice had her helmet off and she leaned her blonde head onto my shoulder pads. One pilot was passing by. She looked like a hard-nosed survivor. She grimaced at us. She must be IMC to look that way. "You two from the IMC?" she snarled. A couple of other pilots were following her closely. They must have really followed this woman religiously by the looks on their faces. Unfortunately though she and I did not have the same religion since I realized that she was from the Militia.

" _Ja_. We used to be. Now we fight for people." I said.

"Well how was that last showdown?" She smirked. "Another lost battle on your pitiful losing streak. You two are freaking experts at retreating."

A deadly cold pool formed in the pit of my stomach. I never resorted to violence with my partners in combat. I thought we were all on the same team but the old blood feuds died hard on the Frontier. I kept my mouth shut though. The sad part was—it was true. I couldn't remember the last time I had won a battle. Alice lifted her head and gave her a few choice words in a way that women only know how to insult other women. The female Militia pilot scoffed and her small entourage followed her out of the hull. I squeezed Alice's hand gently and she lifted it up to kiss my knuckles.

It was recorded in the databases as the Battle of Export. Five companies of grunts went in but only two came out. The two that did survive were in shambles and had to be disbanded to other battalions. Much like when my 40th was decimated. The Militia had suffered the loss of twenty-eight pilots. It was only a little less than a fifty percent casualty rate. They never told us what the civilian casualties might be. Graves knew it would kill our spirits even more if we knew that we saved no one that day. We rushed in too fast in my opinion. I understand that the workers of Export needed us right away but something in my gut told me that Graves had been persuaded strongly to initiate a large-scale rescue. Besides, that was the Militia's MO. No one left behind, even if a fleet died in the process. Some might see the sanctity and honor in that but we at the IMC knew the ways of war and high prices it demanded. We knew that some men and women were to be abandoned with little ammunition to take down what they could before they were over ran. Such was war. Such was the Frontier. An old saying that was never published for obvious reasons in the IMC was something engraved in every bar in the IMC space ships. _"Deliver us from evil. Deliver my paycheck to my love back home. But leave me on the field with my enemy's blood still on my fists."_

A week later our ship received a call to move to a backwater named Nomandy to pacify a swelling of robot invasion there. I had no idea that I would find the IMC already there.


	3. Chapter 3

**Deus Ex Machina Chapter 3**

Fighter jets flew overhead. Their screams shattered the clear, blue sky. Someone may have called this place paradise at one point. The jets gone, a gentle breeze rustled the leaves of a tree that looked like the most distant cousin of a palm tree. The only downside to such a cuddly tree was the poisonous spines infested with poisonous insects. Already two grunts were in critical condition for attempting to harvest the plump fruits at the top. Since those palm tree cousins resided closer to the velvet colored beach, a couple of pilots could be farther inland and admire their beauty.

"You know, this may have not been a bad place to settle down Alice if the new war hadn't started."

I took another swig of water from my canteen as I sat on the table that Alice was using to piece back together a Mag Launcher. She had a conspicuous dark cowl of sweat on her green tank top. She licked her thumb and rubbed a spot on one of the magazine barrels.

"Kax, this is no place to raise a family. This jungle is stalked by all the animals God made too vicious for earth. Besides, it's hardly good for crops either."

"Crops? Since when were you into crops?"

"Since I liked eating. Didn't I tell you that I grew up on a ranch in North America?"

I shook my head. She smiled at me bashfully and blew a blonde strand of hair from her face. We could have continued the conversation but the humidity was so heavy that tongues had to perform an Olympic press of effort to waggle enough for words.

The firebase commanded view of the coastline and the valley that languished below a smoking volcano. The dominant volcano often belched brimstone and curling black smoke. The planet Sanjo Avon was much more unstable than Earth was, even in the resource depraved state home was in. A bitter seed sewn into my stomach injected acid with that thought. What was the state of Earth? Marcus Graves had said that reinforcements may not be coming from the home world of humans. Decades of time existed between Earth and a few years on the Frontier, even with the revolutionary jump drives. I knew that when I enlisted to the IMC as a young man that I would never see Deutschland again. At the time, I wasn't sorry to leave. Jobs were as scarce as bread and men were as mean as the ravaged landscape. I don't remember much more, but I remember fallow fields that were constantly ablaze for some reason. I also don't remember seeing a single building that didn't have bullet holes or scrapes from shrapnel. Even churches were not spared.

Yet some empty feeling broke the surface of the water when I thought about home. It sucked every thought down like a black hole when I imagined that Earth may be no more. I would never leave the Frontier, but something ate the core of a man when home died in a silent audio transmission.

An Atlas and Ogre titan stomped around the perimeter of the firebase. They sank their knees and wrapped their robotic hands around giant trees and pulled them up like radishes. The pilots then guided the titans to drop the trees on a long sled. Hitched to the sled like draft horses were two more Ogres. They lugged their burden down to the cutting yard. The perimeter of the firebase needed to be expanded since our arrival. This had been a backwater Militia stronghold for so long that when we arrived the commander sported a long beard and flip-flops. Code crackers had picked up a message that Spyglass's destructive eye had fell upon Sanjo Avon. Graves then gave the order to mobilize the fleet and fortify the defenses. This was the same planet as the Export town we lost a few weeks ago but we were now at the equator. Unlike the ideal conditions of Export town, frequent tectonic plate movements made volcanoes unhappy and common. Seismographs were constantly on the alert for tsunamis and tidal waves. So it was no surprise that the reason the island we were on was vastly populated by birds. Calling them birds would be too gracious. The nasty beasts just happened to know how to fly.

Wildlife disruptors like those at Airbase Sierra were on every hour of the day to keep the flyers at bay. The Militia was using technology they had stolen from the IMC. I was unfortunate enough to be present at the downfall of Airbase Sierra where the Militia used an "icepick" to shut down the IMC repulsor technology. I will never forget the terror of when those shields went down. The creatures set upon us like starved wolves. Any of us were very lucky if we survived.

These memories were not lonely. A crowd of them took residence between my ears. Voices of the past did not have trouble gaining passage upon the same starships I travelled. Their whispers endured throughout the frontier. They were friends that I lost, people I had killed. On good days, their words were indecipherable, a benign hum. Their breaths blew cold across my skin even in as the equatorial sun roosted at its apex. Their winter words of mud, blood, and steel. On bad days, a bottle of hard alcohol seemed to be my only solace. I crawled to the bottom of the bottle and curled into the fetal position as the ghosts berated my ears and eyes. It was a siege of moans, accusations, and pleas for help. They were my former comrades of the ill-fated 40th IMC Pilot Squadron. Our motto: "We are the Flood". Even in the afterlife amongst the stars of the cosmos, they did flood all around me. Jimbo's blown out eye socket became mine until the blood spilled down into my tongue next to the whiskey. I would put the glass down on the bar only to have it land on the top half of Harris, legs obliterated by a 40mm cannon. He would smile and wink at me and call to me, _Sweetie, what's got you down? Being dead?_ __

That wasn't the worst. I avoided the bathroom like the plague. That's where she was. Half a gallon of hard liquor in my system ready to burst out of my bladder but I still attempted to stem the tide. Finally, I would stumble into the men's room. I usually didn't even make it to my zipper. Smoke that I knew didn't exist would flare into my nostrils. My heart rate jumping at the smell of scorched flesh— human flesh. As the vodka sweats break from my brow, her scalded hands caress the bottom of my collar. She calls like a lover, moans like the wind, and whispers like a corpse. My eyes drop into the bathroom. Through the tile, through space, through hell, and I am back to the singed concrete of Angel City. A burned Atlas titan all around me but I am back in that moment just as I really was. My silver IMC jacket has burns on the sleeves from when I tried to pull her out. Her, Gracie. She screamed as I pulled her from a cockpit as hot as a furnace. The skin from her face fell from the bone like a tender steak loin. The blood had boiled in her veins and she was conscious through that whole ordeal until she died in my arms. But how I knew I was actually piss drunk in a bathroom was when Gracie would lift her head and speak despite her tongue being soldered to her teeth. Her voice never coming from her split lips but echoing a million times in my head.

 _Why didn't you save me Kax?_

I tried. I couldn't get there in time. I have to go, the dropship is leaving.

 _You were not there for me. I was there for you._

I know, I am so sorry.

 _Sorry!? I am a crisp chicken now. Ugly and dead as hell._

Es tut mir leid . . . (I am sorry)

Gracie's hand would shoot to my throat or grab my chin and pull me down close into the sick, burnt smell of her hair. Her eyes pop in the heat, focus on me and she screams from the blackness, " _YOU LET ME DIE!"_

The vomit would come then. Into the urinal or right before it. Gracie and the voices suddenly gone. Embarrassed to be next to an old soldier with puke on his boots and a wet stain on his trousers.

However, since being back with Alice, the voices subsided, but only a little. The fury and fever at myself still clung to the inside of my teeth every day, but Alice could muffle some of their accusations. It was mostly with her concern about my drinking. She pushed me away from the hard stuff and did not back down when I would almost turn violent. Screaming at her like a child's tantrum and staring at the bottle across the room. Alice stood her ground and flexed her strong muscles to be ready for anything I did. I never raised my hand though and would storm out in a tempest of rage and gratitude.

However, this sunny day on Sanjo Avon, I had given Alice the slip and had landed my butt on a barstool. Militia regulation on pilots' drinking was less stringent than on the IMC carriers, but as I looked around the hot squalor, I did not have many in company. A lean-to had been constructed over the bartender's head and that was some of the only shade around the firebase. As much as the shade didn't help with the humidity up in the seventy percent range. As I glanced around, I couldn't believe that more people weren't here to cool their throats. I just wanted the smell of burnt flesh out of my nostrils. A young woman smiled meekly, it was too hot to raise her lips up higher. "What can I get you, sugar?"

"The darkest beer you have."

"Okay, sit tight."

I looked over my shoulder once again. Where in the world was everyone? The only patrons were a few Militia grunts played cards on a makeshift table. They wore just their undershirts and uniform pants. Sweat stains made necklaces beneath their joviality. In this outdoor bar, the rumble of titans destroying nature seemed to faze no one. The bartender slid my beer over on a paper towel that had been used for the previous patron. I lifted up the tin cup and looked to see what other gunk might be on my drink.

 _Savages,_ I thought, _no wonder I had such a pleasure in wiping out these Militia rebels. Their ideas of fairness can't even get a man a good, solid drink._

"Another pilot here? I can't believe my eyes."

I looked sidelong at a man who had taken a seat next to me. I was in the middle of letting half the beer cascade down my throat. It would no doubt be the first of many this fine afternoon. If you want to drink all day . . .

My face pinched at the bitterness of the skunk piss that had just enflamed my nostrils. I finally gulped the concoction down and said, "excuse me?"

He was a Militia man. I knew him from nowhere else. He looked like he was on the verge of fifty but he gave me a toothy grin like a twenty-year old behind a hot rod. I remarked a couple of scars above his right eye and the stubble about his chin.

"You _are_ a pilot, correct?" He asked once more.

"How would you know that I am a pilot?" I sneered. I wanted him to go away. I wanted to drink alone, in peace. But I didn't hear anymore voices in my head.

"A pilot walks a certain way, completely sure of himself. A pilot also drinks in an abandoned way, since they are trying to drown out all of the terrible things they have seen." His eyes widened with the last part, tremendous blue eyes enveloping me.

The man offered his hand, "name's Ray Bratton. I'm a captain around here but I think they just gave me the two bars because I lived. Militia isn't really an army to give ranks anyways."

"Give ranks? Are you from the IMC?"

"Oh heavens no! I've been fighting with the Militia since day one. Of course, the IMC were not even an army either. They were a corporation that hired mercenaries and made sure every soldier was mailed a paycheck."

I finished my beer with a long throwback and then looked at him. The rotten beer in my belly suddenly made me combative. "Oh yeah? Well I was damn proud of my paycheck." I hoped he could see the brutal glee I got from killing his friends. We stared at each other for what seemed a long moment. A smile suddenly broke from his withered face.

"I always loved you IMC pilots! 'Best of the best', 'fear of the frontier'. With this new war, whatever the historians decide to name it, I am sure glad that you all came over."

I couldn't exactly tell if this man was trying to patronize me or his relief was genuine. Bratton's eyes drifted away as he said somberly, "of course, if there are any historians to write about us."

I slapped the wood made from the palm tree cousins on the velvet colored beach. "Then that's just it. We can call this the historian's war since that is who we are actually fighting for."

We both grinned at each other.

"So what happens to be your name, pilot?" Bratton asked.

"Kax Autto. I used to be a first lieutenant of the Fortieth IMC Squadron. Then I was with Blisk's Crows for a stint before everything went to the Spectres."

Bratton nodded sagely and stroked the greying stubble along his chin. "I deployed against the Fortieth I think just once. It was at Angel City. Good God that was an absolute bloodbath."

"Yes it was." I shut my eyes hard. That is where Harris and Gracie left the frontier in fire and blood. Their voice flared a single terrible second but instead of driving me toward another drink, the pilot named Ray Bratton continued to talk and the horrible demons quieted again.

Ray had changed the subject. He spoke of places that he had travelled with the Militia. Places he tried to homestead before the IMC claimed they owned everything. Ray didn't linger on the bitterness towards the IMC taking his home and the small business of atmospheric mining he owned. He joked about some of the infamous criminals he fought beside and their terrible natures. I did not say much as I was apt to doing, but it felt good to speak to a man.

An alert sounded on my pager and I checked my wrist map. "Sorry to cut this short, Ray. But I received an alert. They're mobilizing the pilots."

He raised his glass. "I'll catch up with you, Kax."

I paid the bartender and hustled across the yard. The titans outside the perimeter continued their labor of felling the forest. One Atlas had a terrible looking beast with wings on its back. The partner Ogre came by and pinched the beast like a tick. The thing bled all over the place and I could almost swear I saw the giant robots chuckling.

We all met in a hastily constructed lean-to that had green camouflage netting and leaves. The grunts were in the larger lectern, a white building with air-conditioning. Us pilots had the hot breeze on our skin and the smell of fresh sweat. We encircled a mobile hologram unit. It was not sunk into the gravel so the projected surface of Avon Sanjo was just under our chins. That didn't impress me though; what got my admiration was the sheer _number_ of pilots in this tent. All shapes and sizes dabbed their skin with sweaty towels and talked with their friends. The Militia must take any grunt that was brave enough to strap into a jumpkit. I didn't look to find Alice Reins. I needed to sober and get the smell of alcohol to abandon my breath.

Bish and Sarah would be briefing us that afternoon. Bish was the Militia's ultimate tech-junkie. He kept his meager, black goatee meticulously trimmed to the nearest millimeter. A gut sagged just over his belt buckle. Bish never seemed he could sit still for a minute. His ear needed to be plugged into a Bluetooth with classic rock and his fingers needed to be dancing upon a computer pad surface. When he did finally look up to tell us about our upcoming mission, he gave us all a toothy grin and a jolly greeting.

"Pilots, excellent, prompt arrival! As you know, we have been prepping for the arrival of Spyglass's forces here on the equator. We learned our lesson from our loss at Export. We cannot underestimate Spyglass's cunning and the numbers he can rapidly produce. Its fleet is heading this way as we speak. The angle of the fleet predicts that Spyglass is once again aiming for the civilian settlement just west of us here," he pressed on his computer pad and one of the islands lit up on the hologram. It was shaped like an apple with a crowd of worms. "This is Nuwaki island. A minor Hammond robotics factory is staged here and where a large portion of this sea's food comes from. If Spyglass cannot accomplish burning out the human race, his next best ticket is to starve us out."

Bish smiled at this like a cheery little Christmas ornament. Not like he couldn't use a little starvation himself. Many of the pilots really admired and enjoyed working under Bish. Even some of the survivors of the fall of the IMC quickly grew to respect his technological prowess. I held my grudge though. Bish's "Ice Pick" brought down the three towers at Airbase Sierra and set innumerable beasts upon us.

But Sarah stalked. Her steps moved with the sinewy silence that attributed most female pilots. Yet the definition of Sarah's muscles could even make my Alice back down. Her workout regimen was legendary amongst pilots and every inch of her body was kept in peak condition. She was capable of complete stillness, you could forget she was standing in the room. And when she moved, if Bish was the bumbling Nick Bottom of _A Midsummer Night's Dream,_ Sarah moved like a panther on the jungle floor, the sunlight and shadows caressing her predator gaze.

She stepped to the middle of the briefing wearing unkempt, tousled black hair with the signature red bandana. "We know that Spyglass intends to come here. We will be ready for it. However, our scans picked up something very odd as its fleet moved over the top of the atmosphere. A single ship broke formation and then crashed onto one of the nearby islands. It released a distress beacon but that was it. We will be sending a ship to see if Spyglass does actually have complete control over the leftover IMC forces. I will be leading this investigation with the 8th and Charlie pilot squads."

A heavy sigh came from my slumped shoulders. Last I checked, I was a part of the 8th pilot squad. That affiliation could prove useful though. Better to be away than sitting and waiting for a merciless, main attack from Spyglass. On the other hand, it could be incredibly bad if Spyglass turns even a quarter of his fleet to meet us there at the crash site. Either way I didn't like it. Sarah was a member of the infamous M-COR special forces wing of the Militia. They were just the most exemplified and vicious of the pirates, criminals, and degenerates that made up the Militia. If I disliked Bish for creating the "ice pick", I loathed Sarah. Bish made the weapon but she wielded it with a bloody smile on her lips.

"Pilots!" a voice from the mobile hologram boomed into the tent. The three-dimensional image of Marcus Graves then stood amongst the islands like a Collossus that bestrode the world. "I am sorry I could not attend this briefing but I am currently in orbit to watch our enemy's movements. As Sarah as told you, she will lead a team to see what that one ship went down while Bish will be finishing the fortifications on Sanjo Avon. We don't have much time before the projected time of Spyglass's arrival. Now get to it pilots, and be ready kick some ass." Graves finished in his strong, British accent _awss._

The light cruiser, the _Spartan Spear_ , lifted off of Sanjo Avon and hundreds of the flying beasts took off from the top of the hull, their nests crumbling in the vibration of the engines. She wasn't a tremendous battle wagon, only able to store seven titans and produce two at a time. But she was the main ride for the M-COR Special Forces. Sarah silently watched all of the pilots board her ship and then she gave the twirling of her arm up in the air to signal the pilot to get the cruiser moving. She wore a battle-scarred jacket that had a woman on the back with red hair that said _REDEYE_ under it. But that was the last I saw as she went to front to cockpit and left us to settle in on our own.

I preferred to stand with my G2A4 slung over my shoulder. Alice sat next to me, flexing her glove. I was lucky enough to get my helmet on before I saw Alice after the briefing. The booze was gone from my stomach but I still didn't take a chance of her finding out.

I counted the men and women in the ship with me. Two squads consisted of sixteen pilots. Plus one to include Sarah if she wasn't too much of a pansy to get her pants dirty.

But I had to remember the first time I had actually met Sarah. It was when her fist crashed into the face of my friend, Travis "Maverick" Mercury. We had been captured during our sabotage of an oil refinery back on Axon II. Back a hundred years ago when there was an IMC. Sarah had taken an immense amount of pleasure from beating the snot out of us. Perhaps that was the reason she didn't like any of the personnel on this trip. The 8th Squad really was a majority of leftover IMC pilots either ones that defected during the second titan war or when the IMC imploded with Spyglass's betrayal. To make matters worse for Sarah, Charlie Squad was fresh out of pilot school. Heck, I even noticed one of the pilots still had his Charge Rifle on training mode as we stocked our weapons. That got a good chuckle out my squadmates from the 8th. But I tried to not bash the Charlie squad leader too hard. Poor kid didn't have a choice to join the IMC because it wasn't around anymore.

Perhaps that was Grave's intention. People talked about how Sarah was pretty good under pressure but working solely with M-COR specialists made her kind of one-faceted. So here we were for her to command. One squad of salty, hard-fisted IMC pilots, and another squad of slick from the womb Militia recruits. Sarah would definitely need to balance the extremes of these two squads working together on a common mission. Charlie squad needed the experience and the 8th was the insurance plan in case things got hairy.

But who knew? We might just find a big pile of burning rubble, God willing.

A light appeared on my HUD—a private request from 8th squad leader Ira Jagjit. I moved through the cabin. Charlie squad looked about ready to jump out of the ship without a parachute or jumpkit, anything to get this over with. They either talked nervously or stared up at the ceiling. 8th squad reminded me of innumerable IMC sorties I had the pleasure of partaking. A mixture of laser beam focus and cock-sure talk. Two pilots, Veen and Christopherson were even playing an endless rock-paper-scissors game. I knew them to even be attempting that game during the initial jump from the dropship.

Ira Jagjit was looking over the map of Nuwaki island once more on his wrist map. Jagjit seemed to be a good commander. I had not been under fire with him yet but his frankness in issuing commands defied his small, brown frame. He had pulled up my record and immediately put me as second in command. Was that a good or bad move for the 8th Squad? I wasn't entirely sure yet. I sat down next to him. "What do you need, sir?" I asked.

He ran a quick hand through his black hair. His helmet was down by his feet. "Autto, Abrahams and Pollard are both sick with runs. I checked on them before the launch and sure enough they were as pale as ghosts and on neighboring crappers. I tried to scramble some volunteers to fill the empty slots but I only got an ambitious grunt with a new jumpkit named Kelly Shy and scout sniper from Mike squad. Bad thing is, neither of them were real "volunteers" I should say. Sarah basically just shouted out a demand and it was made."

"She does seem a little on edge. What's the sniper's name?"

"Julia Dorne. I want your girlfriend Alice to keep her in hip pocket."

"And the new grunt?"

"You are going to be monitoring Kelly Shy."

"Yes, sir." I hoped I didn't sound as bummed out as I felt.

"This is a baby-sitter run. Don't feel bad because you don't having to be watching the backside of Charlie Squad like I do. More than likely, Sarah is going to charge in and have 8th squad worry about flanks and positioning and all that tactical nonsense."

"Perhaps we will only find a big pile of wrecked junk?" I asked, wishing to have some vindication on my earlier hope.

A smirk landed on Jagjit's face, "please Autto, you are renowned for your optimism, but I don't think a light cruiser like the _Spartan Spear_ is going on a recovery mission."

"I'd no idea I was an optimist."

"You are not, I was being sarcastic, Autto."

"Right, of course, sir. Well, what titans are on board the ship?"

"Your titan is the first in production cue. 8th squad has three on deck and so does Charlie. Sarah's personal titan is the seventh. Squad leaders were told that we are not to call down a titan unless absolutely necessary. Too many resources to come pick the thing up will be all, Autto."

I got up and began to walk back to Alice to inform her of her new baby-sitter job and mine as well. The jump timer indicated about ten minutes before the doors opened to the tropical sky.

Four of the toughest looking men bustled through the hull right towards me. They wore black pilot uniforms and bore the Militia skull and M-COR on their shoulders. I tried to step aside but one of them deliberately checked me into the lap of a Charlie squad member. The four brutes glanced over their shoulders and chuckled as they went towards the cockpit. Rage boiled behind my eyes as those ape shouldered men passed from the hall. Yet I knew not to say anything. They were Sarah's personal guard.

Alice had donned her curious eyes while I was away. I told her of her new charge, the scout sniper named Julia Dorne.

"Sniper, hmm? Must be such an exhilarating life of crawling into a hole in a building and waiting for someone to run by," Alice smiled coyly. "And something looks to be dragging you down, dear."

"I also must baby-sit. She's someone who was a grunt a few days ago. A Kelly Shy."

Alice clapped her combat gloves together. "You mean to tell me that we finally get a double date? My goodness this is going to be so much fun!"

I scratched my chin, "oh yeah, fun date games like Yahtzee and darts."

"Kax, dearest, cheer up a bit and let's go talk to the 'baby-sats'. I am sure they are nervous and need to be elevated to their duty with stalwart leadership by example."

I looked at her like she had danced off the far end finger of a Stryder titan. "If I am the 'leadership stalwart example' as you say, _frau_ , then the robots have already won."

Alice gave me a comical frown. "Now that's not the attitude of a Frontier hero. Now, go talk to Kelly Shy. Get her ready for her first real jump. And if I find out you laid a finger on her you can bet you won't have fingers after today." She smiled with love, "okay?"

I lifted my helmet so she could see me roll my eyes and kiss her soft lips. I didn't care who Kelly Shy was, even if she was drop-dead gorgeous and lethal to boot. I had my Alice and my heart would never abate. It was comforting to know deep down that Alice knew that of me.

Five minutes until jump and I take a knee in front of Kelly Shy. She is a young woman with freckles all over and her curly strawberry blonde hair tied back. I don't even have to say a word to her yet and I can already tell she is about to soil the new pilot pants the Militia issued her. A sudden thought struck me. When I fought for the IMC we stood against waves of inexperienced pilots. We, the silver-skinned cougars had hunted the droves of almost defenseless deer. How many young pilots like Kelly Shy here had the Militia sent to the slaughter at the hands of men and women like Alice and me?

I took off my glove and offered it to her. " _Hallo_ , I am 1st Lieutenant Kax Autto. You are Private Kelly Shy, yes?"

Shy nodded. She didn't take her glove off to shake my hand but I could almost feel the sweat beneath the fabric. Her lips retreated in at the sound of my rank and accent. She was a Militia soldier; they were not trusting of foreigners from the core systems. I cleared my throat and tried to sound like basic, Frontier English (American accent). "Are you nervous at all?"

Shy's green eyes nearly burst into tears. But she sucked them back and nodded, hoping that no one saw her emotions. I clasped my hands and smiled at her.

"Being a pilot is very interesting! This will be like nothing you have ever done before, but I will need you to stay right next to me at all times. Is that clear?" I thought I was going to gag on the optimistic fur ball lodged in my throat but it seemed to be cheering up the young Shy.

"Do you have your weapon ready? Have you synced your HUD with your Titan OS?"

She showed me her brand new R-101C Assault Rifle and gave me the affirmative that her equipment was synced with the ship. She would be one of the last pilots to call down a titan unless she racked up consecutive kills to surpass the non-coms and commissioned officers. Shy lived true to her name, not saying much and avoiding eye contact for the most part.

"Okay then, how many high altitude jumps have you done in training?" I asked.

Her lips retreated back in again. Her head bowed a little. I stooped to look up into those weepy, green eyes. "Well?"

She muttered a deaf phrase and her dogmatic eyes fixed on the rifle across her lap.

"What?" I had to have heard her incorrectly.

"None, sir."

"Run hard for the ramp. There is going to be pressure leaving the cabin so let it take you the last couple of steps. You don't even have to jump, just leave the ship and tuck your legs. Your boots will take care of the impact."

I wish I could have told Kelly Shy this. Instead I was yelling into the side of her helmet as the air evacuated from the cabin, "RUN AND THEN TUCK YOUR LEGS! GO!"

I followed the young, former grunt as we charged towards the door. I had my hand on her backpack to simultaneously reassure and push the woman. Then Kelly Shy did what I hoped wouldn't happen. She tripped at the edge and tumbled headfirst into the skies of paradise.

Going into a tumble like that is tricky for veteran pilots, let alone a screaming woman with a jumpkit for the first time. The only thing going for Shy and her chances of surviving were that we were not leaving a dropship but a light cruiser so we were higher up and that I was not going to be embarrassed by having my charge killed in the first ten seconds of the mission.

I tucked my knees and rolled my head towards the ground. Once I saw Shy tumbling, I straightened like an arrow. I prayed that she wouldn't fire her jumpkit. A single blast would send her either into the ground like an artillery shell, up into my face to break my neck, or to the side and maybe into the ocean. However, despite the spinning world that Shy inhabited, she managed to tuck her knees up into her chest and assumed the fetal position.

Nuwaki island was coming fast and I still had not reached her. I tried to push myself even straighter to cut through the air. Private Shy and I were javelins heading for the planet while other pilots were descending at a normal pace curled into balls. Alice and the other pilots were flexed tight to keep their feet beneath them so their special pilot boots could take the fall. If any part of the pilot's body impacted the ground before the boots, the bones were usually turned to mush or the person was killed outright with severe hemorrhages to vital organs.

The altimeter on my HUD was running a marathon to zero as I reached out and grabbed Shy's waist. She was looking at me and she may have been screaming my name but I could not hear her through the roaring wind. I tried to tell her to not use her jumpkit as I was turning her feet to the ground. Unfortunately, she must have only heard the last word I shouted and my heart froze when I saw the lights of the jumpkit glow orange. I gripped into her uniform as hard as I could and then the jumpkit fired.

I don't know why I didn't let go. The terror of the predicament I was now in surged through my brain like a dramatic rush of drugs. We were flying off course at nearly a hundred miles an hour and into the smoke of the burning ship we were sent to investigate. Shy and I might collide together into an otherwise intimate embrace for the fraction of a millisecond before our bodies broke and we were nothing but a mixed splatter of human blood marks on the side of the ship. Private Shy's jumpkit was extinguished until her next landing. If she would still be alive to use it again was the real concern. The smoke obscured all my vision and I only knew that I was holding the pilot that may get me killed. Figures that in the end it would be a Militia pilot to execute my demise. I just didn't think it would be this artless.

I flexed my core to bring my knees up to Shy's back and fired my stealthkit. We launched up and she slid in my grip up to her chest. The smoke cleared and we had just missed one of the ship's rudders. We were still going way too fast right towards the next vertical rudder. Shy remained tucked into a ball and that was good. I put my legs out underneath her, as if she were curled onto my lap. My boots slammed into the rudder but I hardly felt the impact. Kelly knew to have her boots hit first too but she did not think she needed to wall run to stay on the vertical rudder. She burst out of the ball and with her arms flailing she fell down. I disengaged from the wall run and once again freefall through space to catch the girl. The Militia was going to need to pay me a _HELLUVA_ lot for this mess.

I never did catch her. She landed on top of the ship and I landed next to her. Air tried to get into my evacuated lungs but my chest seemed closed for a time. I tried to get to my knees to see if my breath would come back. It did not help that smoke was everywhere but my helmet was filtering that out. I glanced over to Kelly who lay on her side, clutching her head. I crawled over to her.

"Private Shy, are you okay?"

"Oh my God, my head—I am so sorry, Lieutenant."

"Never mind that," I wheezed, my breath was coming back slowly. I glanced around; luckily we were where enemies shouldn't be. I looked back at the private on her side. I held up my hand. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Four?" She did not sound too convinced that she was correct.

"That's right!" I said and I put down my three fingers, she was close enough. "Come on, we need to get out of here and regroup."

We staggered to our wobbly knees. The ship rumbled a bit as we made our way to the edge. This would almost be like another high altitude jump since we were nearly thirty stories up in the air still.

I glanced over at my charge. "Are you ready for another big jump? Hey, where is your rifle?"

"God, I don't know, I think I dropped it somewhere."

I looked behind us and the assault rifle dangerously near a vent. I ran and picked it up to return it to her. "You need to hold onto this," I told her. "Get ready, we have to get down there."

Private Kelly Shy took a step back. I grabbed her shoulder and about had enough. "Look, this is _reality_. Pull it together _right now_ or I am leaving you here."

She gripped her rifle once more. It seemed a long time and then she took a deep breath and nodded her head. "Alright," I said and got ready to make the jump, "and this time, mind the gap."

We jumped off the roof of the wrecked ship and it was much less uneventful than the last fall. Which I will take every day of the week, thank you very much. We both landed on the sand and ran for cover. We had our weapons up when the call came in from the squad leader of the 8th, Ira Jagjit.

"Autto, come in. We are picking up your signature on the other side of the ship."

"Yes sir, Private Shy and I are fine and going to make our way to you."

"Roger that. Take it slow. We haven't picked up any readings from the ship ye—"

A cold voice cut in, "Lieutenant Autto, tell me what the hell happened!" I automatically felt my teeth clench at the sound of Sarah's voice.

"A couple of jumpkit issues, sir." I said. Kelly Shy stole a look at me but I could see she was relieved.

"Get your act together, soldier." Sarah hissed, "stay put, we will make our way to you. Sarah out."

I put my hand down from the ear piece on my helmet. Shy looked like she wanted to say thank you but I am glad she didn't. I walked out from cover and into the sand. "Come on, let's go."

"But Sarah said we needed to stay here, sir." Private Shy remained behind cover with her rifle ready.

"Private, rule number three of being a pilot is to _never_ stay still."

"I don't really remember that in the Certification Manual."

"Because that is not in the manual. Now let's get a move on Private Shy."

She finally came out of cover and we began to move around the wreckage of the ship. Fire was prevalent; it licked the hull of the ship and some of the article of cargo that had spilled out from the walls. Nearby trees were either sliced to the stump or ablaze. The same kind the titans were uprooting from around Firebase Sanjo Avon.

We maintained our fields of fire to cover the most area. I ducked behind a box while Shy continued to scan for enemy forces. The compass on my wristmap assured that I was still heading East and that 8th and Charlie Squads were moving towards our direction.

"Lieutenant Autto, sir. What are the other rules of being a pilot?" Private Shy asked.

"You mean the ones not in the manual?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, rule number one is mind the gap." A sly smile broke on my face but Shy did not see it behind my helmet. "Rule number two is don't run in front of a titan. Rule number three you know. Rule number four is rodeo the titan furthest back, and rule number five is different depending on what you are wearing."

"Wearing, sir?"

"Ja. If you are wearing IMC silver, rule number five is to stay calm. If you are wearing Militia green, the rule is to run from pilots and titans in silver and white."

A confused look took Shy but she stopped short, "But we're all wearing . . . oh."

"I have a bloody past Private. I was paid good money to do what I did. I met many pilots just like you Kelly Shy. But I did not know them for very long. Yet, we are on the same side now. Do exactly as I say and when I say it, is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," she said it quickly with a minor tremble in her voice. I switched on the Active Radar Pulse and then told Shy to get down. A patrol of Spectres exited the ship in front of us. They were armed to the metallic teeth. Six Spectres were escorting a repair droid that floated above them. It must be surveying the damage to the ship. Machines had such odd, quirky movements. Despite being our creations, we could never manufacture the way we walked or operated with complete accuracy.

Luck was with us this time. Shy and I were behind cover and on high sand. I was digging for my satchel charge when Shy got my attention, I glanced through the cover and another form was dropping onto the flashing orange figures that marked the enemy Spectres. I shifted up to see with my eyes and my jaw dropped down.

A man in silver, IMC fatigues dropped from the overhang of the ship and jammed a dataknife into one of the Spectres. The man was dirty and unkempt with a dark beard around his chin. The Spectre with the dataknife stood frozen while the man ran over and twisted the head around on the next Spectre. He held it up in front of him as the other Spectres raised their guns. He took the C.A.R submachine gun from the limp hands of his victim and fired a spray of death. Two Spectres collapsed while the other fired upon him. The bullets bounced off the Spectre in his arms but he would only have cover for so long before . . .

A burst of fire rang beside me. Private Shy had stood up and was firing her assault rifle down onto the Spectres. She dropped one and then I got my G2A4 ready but held my fire. Only Spectre remained standing, and that was the one with the dataknife in the back of its robotic skull. It twitched and made loud beeping noises. I was curious to see what would happen since the Militia techs had said it was nigh on impossible now to hack Spyglass's Spectre units.

The Spectre lifted its head, then fitted the rifle under its chin and fired.

I broke from my observation and pulled Shy down behind cover just before a hail of C.A.R. rounds came screaming in.

"What the heck! We just saved that dude!" Shy screamed at me.

"He doesn't know who we are. He won't take chances."

I left my rifle on my lap and raised my hands up above the boxes to show we meant no harm.

"IMC soldier! State your rank and outfit, sir!" I shouted.

A long silence procured around us. I looked over at Shy. She suddenly seemed very calm despite shooting and getting shot at.

"You have much more composure than when we jumped Shy." I said with my hands still up in the air but every vital part of me behind cover.

"Jumping out of high altitude without a rope is new to me Lieutenant, sir. But getting shot at and being at the bottom of the food chain as a grunt is nothing new."

I nodded my head at her brilliant point.

"Hey Militia jerks—!" the call finally came from the man who had deftly eliminated a whole patrol of Spectres. But something sounded very familiar about his voice . . .

"You talk like corporate does. Come on out and tell me who you are."

I stood up and he was much closer now on the hill of sand and realized I had already said this only a few hours ago when I sat at a bar with old Militia warrior named Ray Bratton, "I am 1st Lieutenant Kax Autto of the former IMC and the former 40th Pilot Squadron."

The man tilted his head behind the sights of his C.A.R. and a big grin grew on his scarred, dirty face.

"Krout? That can't be you! At least I figured you would remember your old, Crow buddy Maverick."

He lowered his weapon and sure enough, against all odds stood my friend, Travis Mercury.


	4. Chapter 4

**Deus Ex Machina Chapter 4**

I hopped over the boxes and embraced Travis "Maverick" Mercury. He held me tight in return. I was elated to see an old friend from the IMC, but he reeked of oil and gasoline. I hid the repugnance from my face but Travis did not.

"Krout, old sport, did your retarded mother dress you in that terrible green today? Or do I surmise the worst possibility?"

"Maverick, there is no more IMC. Spyglass decimated it. You probably should have figured that out."

The familiar scowl of my hot-blooded friend came back again. "Oh no, I didn't happen to notice because for the past month or so I have been living in Spyglass's butthole in the garage. I've just been swimming in oil and grease to keep my heat signature undetected by the Spectre patrols—but now to see an old mate in Militia green? I think I have now had too much."

Before I could respond, Private Shy interrupted. "The Militia are the only ones willing to fight back against Spyglass. It is trying to force mankind into extinction."

Maverick glanced at me for moment as if he wanted to say, who invited this biddy into the debate? Finally, he said to her, "I pieced that together too, pumpkin. I'm not the only person on this ship. But I'm part of the few that survived because the Spectre patrols methodically executed everything that thought about breathing."

At this I noticed the toll the life of a missing soldier took on Maverick. His eyes shifted more, constantly alert and nervous. Deep creases occupied around his the restless eyes. The muscles of his neck and shoulders looked haggard and worn from being drenched in inhospitable liquids for days on end.

"Anyways," Maverick shrugged, "I was at least hoping to get a little bonus on my next paycheck for surviving against all odds. But since the owners bit the dust I guess I am unemployed now."

"Come with us. Besides, we are the only way off this island."

"Yeah, though it doesn't look like I have a choice; unless I just want to live off of sick dreams and coconuts."

Fortunately, 8th squad was the pilots to hook up with us. Unfortunately, Sarah was in the lead with the four brutes at her flanks. The rage grew silently in Sarah's face as I saw them approach, 8th squad looked very relieved to see someone in the familiar fatigues of silver and grey.

"You have a lot to answer to—Autto. We are behind mission timer now. Get that weapon off that stowaway and let's move out." Sarah growled and moved through us as if we weren't there. That hitch before my name probably occurred because she had forgotten my name unless Ira Jagjit was there to remind her.

A man in the black pilot uniform with arms bigger than my legs came up to Travis and held out his hand. "Come on, merc, you heard the lady. Cough up the gun."

I saw Maverick instinctively pull away. A pilot didn't easily part with their weapon, but it was an insult to call an IMC soldier a merc, short for mercenary. That comment even got under my skin quite easily, but I could keep my anger in check much better than my friend.

"You can have this gun shoved where the sun don't shine right before I pull the trigger—ya dumb _savage_."

Sarah's guardsman stepped up and had big backup too. Of course Maverick wouldn't think of the bad odds until he dead in a ditch down country. That's just the way he was.

"I'll flatten your smug face you little—", growled the guardsman as he stepped forward but I sidled in between them and put my hand on the barrel of Maverick's C.A.R.

"Alright Mav, it's been a long war today. Give up the gun and you can take a break, we will take care of this."

Fury flew into Maverick's eyes and not for the first time, did I think he would strike me and then cause an all-out brawl on the beach. Since we could only see each other, I pleaded at him with a wink. _I wear their uniform, but you know where my heart is, brother crow._

Maverick seemed to understand but he still shoved the submachine gun into my chest. I turned around and the gun was roughly taken from my hand. Sarah's guardsman probably would have spit tobacco juice in my eyes if we didn't have helmet faceplates. He mumbled phrases about us being weak-hearted cowards. I was just glad that Travis Mercury of the former IMC didn't hear that.

Pilots usually spread out on the battlefield and wreak havoc across God's green earth. Except in the close quarters of this fallen IMC ship we stayed close together. I activated my Active Radar Pulse whenever I could so no robots could get the jump on us. Maverick was in my left pocket to the inside of the formation and Private Kelly Shy remained in my right pocket. I saw my girlfriend Alice with the sniper scout but we just curtly nodded to each other. We were on the clock, as the IMC would phrase it.

Now that Sarah was stuck with all of us, she micromanaged all of our movements in the ship. She constantly berated the leader of Charlie Squad about keeping everyone in formation and frosty. I almost wondered if she might hate a newly recruited squad of pilots more than the former IMC squad. I was wrong.

A private message popped up on my HUD and I pressed the button on my collar and kept it to a whisper. "Go ahead."

"Autto," Jagjit, 8th squad's leader sounded frustrated and tired suddenly. He was moving with Sarah to the bridge while the rest of us had been split to cover the engine room and the armory. Maverick and Shy were still with me, I also had Chrisopherson with a R-97 Compact. The two other men with us were from Charlie Squad, tough looking dudes despite barely getting their feet wet for the first time. I was glad not to already be babysitting even more soldiers. Jagjit may have taken pity on me when he doled out who was going where. Now though, he didn't sound happy.

"A little heads up, I don't know you very well but you seem alright. I saw what happened on the jump. Anyways, Sarah is mumbling about a court-martial for you or some sort of punishment, however they do it in the Militia."

"Thanks, sir. No more mistakes." I whispered back. Being next to the honcho himself, I knew the risk that Jagjit took by letting me know. I knew for sure now this man was worth fighting hard for.

Our search of the ship was almost complete when a heavy sigh came out of Maverick. He had just watched us gun down the last Spectre survivors of the crash with his hands in his pockets.

"So your CO is looking in the ship database to find why this big thing crashed, right?"

I nodded to Maverick. He shook his head. "Come on, man. It was me, Ulysses, and Yon-Li. We severed the rudder controls and the bots couldn't fix it in time before the ship broke atmosphere. At which point they gave up and stuck to walls to the least amount of damage to their frames. Did anybody think of asking us?"

"Where are the other two then?"

"Ulysses got fried in the wires like a roast chicken. I don't know about Yon-Li though, we split up when the bots came after us."

The rest of my group looked at me. "Alright," I said, "let's get back to the entrance. We've cleared enough to wrap up this mission."

In all honesty, we sauntered back to the return rally point. The soldiers in my command maintained enough discipline to not get jumped but we didn't impose any hustle. Maverick looked even glummer than when I had first met him. He constantly itched at his beard. He mumbled to me that he couldn't wait to get the thing off of him. It made me realize that he was still only eighteen or somewhere around there. He was very, very young to be a certified combat pilot but the IMC had seen something in him. I did too. He was a remarkable fighter and quick on his fists and feet, even if his ideas were not the brightest.

"You know," I leaned into Maverick for confidence. "They might court-martial me after this run."

Maverick flinched back like I had struck him. "No way!? You're telling me that by-the-book Krout is going to get a demotion?"

He made a whistle and my new shadow, Private Kelly Shy, looked our way.

"Not so loud," I hissed.

"Either way mate, it shows one more reason the Militia is a buncha savages." Maverick smiled at me then, "they don't respect the work of real professionals."

"That might be. You may not know it but the 8th Squad is made entirely of former IMC pilots, except Private Shy."

"You mean that fine piece?" and Maverick ostentatiously pointed at her from behind; I was glad that she was not looking. "I guess the Militia has one thing going for them." He looked up at the roof of the hall we were walking and folded his hands in prayer. "Forgive me, oh Lord, for I knew not green pants had such excellent booty!"

It took all of my power to stifle the laugh. Maverick patted me on the back, "I missed you, mate. But the minute I get some grub and this facial hair off, I'm skipping this planet for the farthest reach of the Frontier. Hell, I'll go beyond it."

"Maverick, the Militia could use a guy like you. We need fighters against Spyglass."

"You don't get it, man. The whole Frontier is going to _burn_." He swept his hand to encompass the horizon of our vision. His words rang ominous in my mind, especially the way he said _burn_. Seriousness just seemed uncharacteristic of him. My mind then recalled the memory of the black wave of Spectres caving over that Export town sent shivers to the marrow of my bones.

"The thing is," Maverick continued, "We tapped into their communications line at one point. Robots talk really fast to each other but Yon-Li picked up that they were manufacturing this 'Divination' thing. Sounds like a big weapon to me."

I did not reply. I actually did not know what the word meant and would ask Alice as soon as I saw her, she would know.

The comms lit up with a mass message to every pilot. Sarah's face showed up in the upper left hand corner of our HUDs. "Pilots! Report to the ship's exit immediately, dropships are waiting for us. On the double!"

Christopherson shot a cocky grin my way and said, "oy boss, something tells me the miss is upset."

I whirled my finger around to get everyone's attention before I said, "you're right Sergeant, now everyone head to the rally point—stat. Keep checking your corners but don't be last. The miss looks like she wants to pulverize somebody today."

I wish I had known that person about to be pulverized was me.

We skipped over the bullet-riddled bodies of Spectres and with no more incidents boarded the waiting dropships. Charlie squad with their first mission under their belt and no casualties boarded one while we jumped on the next. I had just made sure that everyone was on as the jets fired and we left a swirl of sand behind us on the beach. I turned as the side door to the dropship closed to look for Alice. I wanted to ask her what 'divination' meant. Instead, I came face to face once again with a very angry Sarah.

Her lips curled up into a snarl and shifted the headset she wore. The smell of impatient sweat boiled into my nostrils. She may have been incredibly angry but she was indeed a very attractive woman. An irrational, stupid man side of me felt very excited to have her right up into my chin but I pushed the feeling away like radiation candy.

"You worthless, dirty-rotten scum-bag merc. If we weren't already late to getting back to Firebase Sanjo Avon, I would be personally throwing your carcass into that shark infested sea. I would deploy a raft down there with just me in it so I could watch either drown or be eaten alive."

"Sir, I—" I tried to say but she cut me off.

"Don't you try your polite boloney with me you IMC rat. I still know who you are. I still know what this whole squad is—a disgrace. A disgrace that I have to associate with you all and make this mission late while my friends are currently under assault. You are a disgraced IMC that only killed for money and created a new war with Spyglass burning innocent civilians. Not only that, but I pick up two _more_ mouthy IMC mercs."

"With this next engagement, soldier, you do so much as breathe in my direction or mess up an order again, you will live the rest of your days in a pit with bars on top. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir."

She turned around and marched to the cockpit as to not be sunk into the filth that was the former IMC 8th Squad. I saw Alice stand up without her Spitfire LMG but instead her even more dangerous clenched fists. I waved her down. Of course Sarah had her four massive bodyguards in a tight box around her. Sarah could lip-off to us all she wanted as long as the big brutes were around her. I understood that she had incredibly bad blood with the IMC. I had seen it when she had interrogated Maverick and I back on Axon II. But this chick better watch her back before a frag grenade rolled into her cover.

The strain of standing straight exited my body and took all of my will as well. I glanced over and Christopherson made a fake gun, aimed at the back of Sarah's head, and his fingers bucked back from the recoil. His lips making a quiet, "pow" sound amidst the roar of the engines. Someone chuckled but everyone else looked serious and straight ahead. Christopherson looked the most sincere. I made a tiny wave of my hand as if to say it was alright. It even occurred to me in a funny way that Sarah had forgotten my name and had called me, "soldier" in the lecture. I think that was twice this day.

I sat down next to me girlfriend and she grabbed my hand hard. "I can't believe she talked to you that way! You saved Private Shy's life."

"You did, sir, I am so sorry about all this." Kelly Shy whispered. She was true blue Militia too, so that made the irony sting a little. Only a little.

"Don't worry," I said, "she is just worried her Militia friends won't know how to fend off an attack."

I thought that only Alice had heard me but I did not know that the entire 8th Squad was riveted to my next words. They all burst out laughing, even squad leader Jagjit let a smile flash across his face. Unfortunately, Sarah turned around stomped back a couple of steps. The laughing ceased immediately. She stood there for a few moments with her chest pumping, her eyes sliding all over us like a venomous cobra. Sarah scoffed and whirled back around and went up into the cockpit. A few more moments of silence passed on the ship. A few giggles came out but we did not venture again to laugh outright. Besides, another battle was on its way.


	5. Chapter 5

Deus Ex Machina Chapter 5

"No man will hurl me down to Death, against my fate.  
And fate? No one alive has ever escaped it,  
neither brave man nor coward, I tell you—  
it's born with us the day that we are born."

I checked the clip of my G2A4 once again as this quote tumbled into my mind from the infinite nowhere that is the human consciousness. I remembered it from _The Iliad_ , and it had once given me comfort. However, as the _Spartan Spear_ gained sight of Sanjo Avon, ominous, black smoke curled up into paradise's sky. I couldn't say now that no man would hurl me down to death. Who knew if artificial intelligences figured into the grand wheel of fate, and their exemption may be the loophole that got me finally shot, or blown right out of my boots.

Sarah had patched us into the combat feed. Militia forces were on the verge of panic. I could hear the slight tremble in their voices as they issued orders. The light cruiser we were aboard ascended to the top of the atmosphere. It was getting in place to deliver titans onto the battlefield. It also meant that there would be no dropships for us. We were going straight down in drop pods. A mixture of good in bad in that scenario. Dropships had tendency to get shot down, drop pods fell too quickly for anti-aircraft measure. Yet, drop pods could land an unlucky crew right in front of an angry titan or a crafty pilot. That could mean everyone was dead before a second boot touched the ground.

Either way, we were going down there.

A rough tap on my shoulder turned me around. The beardless Travis Mercury smiled back at me. "Kax! I found a razor, a snack, and look what else I found on this stinking ship. When the miss was grilling you, I heard her say _two_ worthless mercs were aboard. Lieutenant Kax Autto, I'd like you to meet my compadre in crime, Yon-Li Park."

Yon-Li may have been a few inches shorter than Travis and me, but the guy was built like a brickhouse. His strangulating handshake confirmed that and he smiled. "Mr. Autto, it is a pleasure to finally meet you. Travis talked about you quite often." Then he held up his hands, "all good things, all good things, haha!"

I told him the pleasure was all mine. No wonder that Travis found an instant friend in him, probably because he would make a great sparring partner.

"So, Kax old-buddy-old-pal, do you think Yon-Li and I could hitch a ride to yon paradise?"

An evil grin crept onto Travis's face at his pun using Yon-Li's name.

"But Travis, we have a siege going on down there."

The smile remained exactly where it was, "of course! Paradise!"

Jagjit, the 8th squad leader, stood up as he was nearby. "I can fetch you guys a ride. It's going to be a drop pod but I see you have no weapons. Follow me and I can suit you two up. We may need every hand down there we can get."

Yon-Li eyed him incredulously.

"Is your commander Sarah going to be cool with that?"

Jagjit shrugged as if to say, _does it look like I_ really _care?_

"Awesome," Travis clapped his hands in glee. "Glad to see the dirty-rotten IMC never really died."

This was going to be a battle of attrition. Our objective was to eliminate all enemy forces. They were going to be doing the same to us so we were to take no quarter, and expect none. The restraint bars fell over our shoulders to lock the four of us into the drop pod. Blood began to surge into my fingers as I gripped the restraints. Alice was next to me, the door on my left. Travis was next to her and happy about a brand new C.A.R., unhappy about Militia regalia. Yon-Li had relinquished his genial smile for a face only certain men had right before they engaged in a mortal fist fight. He was not trying to intimidate me who stared at him from across the claustrophobic drop pod, but he was readying his mind for the killing. Yon-Li Park had selected a R-101C Carbine with a special, new feature the Militia had dreamt up, a grenade launcher on the bottom.

I had asked him about it when I saw the peculiar gun just before we boarded the drop-pod.

"I saw it and had to have it." Yon-Li had grinned. "I heard that before the first titan wars, this kind of weapon combo was very common."

It suddenly got me wondering. What if I put a shotgun barrel beneath my G2A4? What if—?

"Pilots," Sarah said to us. Inside the drop pod, the launch primers shook everyone inside to where I could see two Yon-Lis and two Travis's. "Descent in three, two, one—mark!"

A whoosh sound swept beneath my feet and my stomach suddenly hit the roof of my mouth. A robotic voice informed us about our descent and which levels of the atmosphere we were cruising through at the leisurely pace of mach 2. A blasting sound signaled to us the opening of the drop pods "wings" to slow our descent. These same wings accompanied titans that left those cruisers and carriers in orbit. My organs were just settling down into their normal positions when the drop pod hit the ground—A very quick ride. The impact was not too jarring due to the technical capabilities our special pilot boots. The door burst off and Yon-Li was the first to step out with his gun ready. I followed him, Travis next, then Alice at the rear. Both 8th and Charlie Squads were dropped in the same vicinity of the island. We were not in immediate danger, but it did not take me long to assess this battle and surmise that we had our work cut out for us.

Charlie squad was to get inside the firebase as soon as possible to reinforce the Militia there. It would be up to 8th squad to venture into the jungle inland and harass Spyglass's main invasion force. That would buy time (hopefully) for the Militia to restructure their defenses and organize a counter-attack.

This plan had Graves written all over it. On many occasions in the IMC, Vice Admiral Marcus Graves issued a similar attack strategy. Graves made commanders nervous, and made them panic. Getting hit from all sides with alternating intensity and intervals usually made a Militia commander collapse his forces into a single area; that was when Graves would drop the hammer right on top of the poor devils. He wasn't the smoke and mirrors kind of guy like MacAllen (like using a derelict ship to attack Outpost 207? You got to be kidding me). Yet, Graves wasn't the smash and grab style like Blisk, I guess the IMC's equivalent to Sarah. Was the IMC and Militia command really that parallel?

We charged into the dense jungle, heedless of the natural and man-made dangers that awaited us. I then wondered what had happened to the wily, South African. If Travis had made it through the culling of the IMC, surely . . .

Jagjit signaled for us to slow our pace. Many of us dropped from the trees and let our jumpkits idle. Years of experience had always taught us to move high and move fast. The dense forestry only allowed our sight a few hundred yards at a time. However, they allowed the sounds of combat to drift through their leaves. Explosions, guns, breaking machines, and screams. The sun was still high in the sky but the shadows slid their slick tongues across our green fatigues. Sweat dripped from my brow and in my gloves, but I couldn't help but feel chills in the darkness.

Our squad of eight stopped. We waited for a moment and then I knew what was coming. Without making any noise, Jagjit pointed up and we all scaled the tree nearest to us. With the aid of jumpkits we ascended quickly and entered the canopy in seconds.

Anxiously we waited amongst the tree limbs until the formation of Spyglass's Spectres walked beneath us. I counted somewhere around twenty-five automated infantry units. Inside my HUD, a timer began to countdown. I shouldered my rifle and picked an important looking Spectre from the crowd. It had a freshly painted white stripe on its triangular head.

The neurons in my brain issued the order to pull the trigger when the countdown timer had expired, and I swear before the vastness of the frontier that before the G2A4 bucked back that first bullet was when the Kraber round sliced through our ranks. At first, I thought it was me. The 14.5x114 mm round had ended my life before I even knew it. But I looked over and instead Christopherson had a hole the size of a fist in the middle of his chest. He looked incredulously down at the fatal wound.

His eyes, dead eyes from beyond, found me. I thought my own heart would explode.

The former IMC soldier slumped and fell from the tree. The rest of 8th squad had opened fire on the unsuspecting Spectres below. I activated my stealthkit and shouted sniper. Another Kraber round slashed like a katana where I used to be in the tree.

Grenades and satchel charges detonated below us and blew the some of the Spectres to pieces. They returned fire but with our jumpkits and stealthkits we easily avoided the counter-attack. Would Militia pilots have known to move in the branches and to fire down at the enemy while on the move? I am not sure. But there must have been a reason that 8th Squad was sent into the jungle to flank the enemy while Charlie, a brand new Militia pilot squad, was sent back into firebase Sanjo Avon.

I latched onto the trunk of a tree (luckily not those nasty, poisonous palm tree cousins), and aimed down the sights. However, I only stared at smoking gravel and strewn robot parts where limbs and guts would have been if this war was the same as the one I experienced only a few months ago. Jagjit issued the command to regroup that showed as a green flash in the HUD of every squad member.

On the jungle floor, Jagjit hung his head, cussing under his breath.

"I set us all up there like that. I thought we'd the real jump on them. Now Christopherson's bought the farm. Is that Sniper Spectre still out there?"

"Negative, sir." Alice spoke up. "Our scout sniper Julia Dorne neutralized the threat soon after."

The young girl next to Alice was a small thing, but she beamed with enough pride holding her Longbow DMR that she was five feet taller than the rest of us.

"Alright, Dorne. Squad, let's get a move on. Firebase Sanjo Avon is still taking a beating so we are going to move closer to the front and see if we can't land some titans into that mess. Let's get back into the treetops. Move fast and sure." Jagjit went to turn away but then he remembered something else to tell us. He added, "and scan for snipers."

When we broke the treeline, the same horrible scene that played out in the Export town appeared again before our eyes. A black swarm marched against a frantic wall of tracers and rockets. Militia titans were taking cover behind the cement turrets in the wall to recharge their shields and reload their weapons. However, the machines were relentless and endless. How did Spyglass seem to quadruple the size of his Spectre army seemingly overnight?

A dim outline of Spyglass's fleet hovered over the valley in the island. What was once a peaceful pasture of green grass was now a black blanket almost as far as we could see shuffling along. In the midst of this siege were towering titans walking straight into enemy fire. No human commander would senselessly send his men and women against such a fortified firebase without an outright mutiny festering beneath his ranks. Only Spyglass had questionless minions who marched into the teeth of oncoming fire, who never minded their casualties except to step over them.

 _This is what Troy must have looked like_ ; _the Greeks crashing against the shores like an angry sea. But where is their Achilles? God help us if some machine has taken upon itself to rise and fight like that ruthless hero of the past_.

Of course machinery didn't have a conscious. Or else they wouldn't rush to their structural doom. Each and every Spectre and Titan was controlled by Spyglass and the composite programs accompanying such a massive data structure. At least, I hoped so.

Thankfully, to break my unhappy (and very irrational) brooding, Jagjit began to issue us orders through the comm.

"Alright, the robots are pulling back this attack to regroup. This is our opportunity to hit them in the flank."

He radioed Sarah our position and opportunity.

"Understood, Captain, we are moving to your position and will have titan support in three minutes. Sarah out—."

Jagjit glanced over his seven remaining team members. I could tell that Travis and Yon-Li were eager for the fight. As they lived in that hell aboard the ship's armory, I bet no one could imagine the extent of the revenge they dreamed against the machines.

"Right," Jagjit told us, "hit them fast, then we will pull back to gain our titan backup. I'm setting up a three minute timer. You'll want to be back in the trees when that time expires."

For an insane moment, I thought Jagjit was going to give one more warning about avoiding Achilles out there. Instead, we readied up and made sure our weapons had full clips and our ordinance was armed. Just as the last of the Spectres made their retreat, more enemy titans were falling from the heavens. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and focused on the killing about to happen.

Dear readers,

While I think that this chapter is lacking in a lot of action per say, I don't want to keep everyone waiting around for me to flesh out these chapters. For the last couple especially, I have been keeping it around the 2,000 to 2,500 word count. This is pretty short to me and I could extend these chapters much more but then it would take two weeks to get it out to because of my busy schedule.

What I am driving at is that if you prefer these short type chapters please rate and review with your wishes. If you are more into the full scene type chapters like chapter 3 (which came out to be 7,000 words . . .) then let me know. I will do my best to keep churning out these chapters at a timely manner.

Sincerely Yours,

Bobby Redshirt

PS-Another shout out to Golden Sheath who got me into fanfiction and supported my work here. It is an honor being able to use his OC Travis Mercury.


	6. Chapter 6

ACHILLES

We leave Kax Autto and his band of former IMC pilots. These braves souls will attempt a daring move that may save the day for the Militia, or only usher their defeat on this entire planet. How ironic that these sworn enemies now rely on each other against an apocalypse of mankind's own doing. Graves knows this is a gamble, the men and women he used to command under the blue and silver flag may forfeit the flanking move to better their own chances of survival rather than surrender their living breath to the salvation of the Frontier's Militia.

On the other side of the battlefield, a computer controlled Goblin dropship lands behind a hastily crafted forward command center. Three Ogre Titans stand in guard mode with the Andromeda Relay circulating through their AI mainframes. The battle was a thousand yards away but every Titan and Spectre was learning from the battle their counterparts may have been slain in. The Relay was succinct, efficient, and rapid. With every move the enemy made, with their fleshy skins and goo-filled eyeballs, Spyglass's entire army knew all the happenings on the battlefield, even down to the smallest repair drone. It was a perfect hive mind orchestrated by Spyglass, who sat upon an iron throne in the IMS Colossus. It did not control every single robotic entity in its new army, but monitored the ebb and flow of the Andromeda Relay on the battlefield, selecting which information about weaknesses in the Firebase Sanjo Avon were pertinent and which were not.

Spyglass turns its head to the monitor which shows the ramp drop from the Goblin. Amidst a swirl of upturned grass and gravel a troop of Spectres march out. Spyglass zooms in on the center Spectre. It has unique, silver and gold painted on its helm. The red slits of the Spectre narrows and it immediately issues orders to remove the forward command center to a safer location. Spyglass acknowledges and two of the Ogres lift the command platform and the third follows to escort their load. The former Vice Admiral of the former IMC can reach in and manipulate every Spectre on the Frontier, except the one in gold and silver. Spyglass is an artificial intelligence of the highest echelon in programming, and this one Spectre makes it nervous. Computers do not like uncertainties or unknown results. The chaos of the unknown throws statistics and probabilities out of the air lock. However, Spyglass must take this gamble. The ignorance as to what Zeus will bring upon his coming out of the core systems made Spyglass rest his chances upon this Spectre.

Zeus had subjugated and eradicated the human race from the core systems and was currently moving its forces through the stars at a snail's pace due to the fall of Demeter. Yet it would not be long until the conquerer would arrive and lay claim to the Frontier. Unless Spyglass's special Spectre became what the former Vice Admiral hoped it would be, the extra advantage needed against such a powerful adversary. If Spyglass's plan worked, all the humans would be extinct in the Frontier in two years. His forces would overwhelm Zeus as it came into range and from there Spyglass would have repaired Demeter and commandeered the forces in the Core Systems. All for the final battle, all for the eternity in which Spyglass would live and rule the Galaxy, perhaps the Universe if it could destroy the aliens coming.

Spyglass rerouted its primary focus back to the monitor with the silver and gold Spectre. It was good to be a few steps ahead but this had to work first, this special Spectre. This warrior would either be the key to a brusque, successful campaign, or imminent defeat. Spyglass would watch closely, very closely, this new Achilles it had put upon the battlefield.

Commander Blisk turned its head and scanned the terrain. The trees swayed in the smoke filled wind. The grassy plains and the smell of ashes reminded it of someplace it had never been. The Spectre with the silver and gold wondered why it compared this scene to something deep and not in the archives of the IMC memory deposits, or why it thought it could smell. No aroma detection was installed onto its structure but yet the scene this Spectre saw drew it to a pause. The wind still pushed the long grass and the plain was littered with the corpses of human infantry and automated infantry. Commander Blisk was about to draw the fleeting memory information to its rightful conclusion when the Ogres set the forward command center down in the coordinates Spyglass had designated.

Blisk had the Ogres move the command platform further away not because it was cowardly, but rather an assurance of important assets to a more secure location. If lost, the forward command center could defect this entire army of Spectres and Titans on the ground to turn against Spyglass. Blisk was not about to let that happen so it ordered the forward command center further in, away from the flanks. It did not think the Militia would be able to mount a counterattack that quickly and in such ideal position but it remained on the air of caution. The flanks of its forces were especially vulnerable on the right because of the dense jungles could mask enemy movements within. Blisk had requested an incendiary, orbital bombardment of that section of the jungle but was denied by Spyglass. Rage may have sifted through its circuits but Blisk took the refusal in stride and initiated the first wave against Firebase Sanjo Avon.

The Militia inside had proven resilient and repelled the first wave of Blisk's forces. The first wave limped back to the protection of the second wave and were regrouping and repairing. The machines under Blisk's command moved the orders issued but it knew Spyglass was routing and really issuing the orders. Blisk wondered if Spyglass actually did control its movements and decisions. There was no way to tell. Commander Blisk just observed, strategized, and then acted. Except for those pesky informational malfunctions of when

 _I was once a man! Of bone and-_

the corrupted memory files slowed down the decisions for a brief nanosecond. Blisk put the C.A.R. Submachine gun onto the magnet on its back and sprinted to the forward command center. It could not feel the fog of war rush through its steel, skeletal structure, but it felt faster. And that felt good-very good. But what was this movement of speed compared faster to?

 _To when I was a boykie and ran through tall, brittle grass just like this. The brush of their stems on my knees as blood pumped in my heart growing up strong in-_

The entourage of escort Spectres followed close behind. Spyglass had modified them with red, steel plating, and the most advanced synthesis of the Andromeda Relay. They were there to make sure Blisk was not destroyed ( _killed_ ). Blisk slapped the side of its helm without knowing the reason why. The interruptions in the circuits were making the command of this battle irritating. The interruptions were not code like the suggestions from the minions and Spyglass, but rhythmic frequencies likened to a human voice. The sounds were always laced with static. The frequencies consistently broke through like a release of panic.

But panic was not protocol. Not in the IMC certainly. But a logic failsafe fired within the confines of Commander Blisk's central processing unit. Blisk was never a part of an IMC, it had never existed, yet—

 _I worked for them, two long term contracts, and damn good wages too—_

Blisk stepped onto the command platform and scanned the numbers associated with the fighting capability at its disposal. Eight thousand Spectres remained operational and one hundred and six Titans could be moved into combat with a single code. Those one hundred and eight were just the ones on the ground currently. Blisk could call in reinforcements from Spyglass's IMS Collosus if need be. The Spectre reached out its gold hand and pressed on a panel that directly linked Blisk with the active Andromeda Relay for the battle. The information came in like a tidal wave and told the Spectre that the Firebase Sanjo Avon had retained 12% structural damage and Militia forces suffered approximately 7% casualties. Blisk had hoped for more results than such, especially because the first wave had incurred 31% casualties. However, such was the way of sieges. It would route the Militia today. Commander Blisk would stride into Firebase Sanjo Avon and find Marcus Graves. The special Spectre would then terminate the Militia commander, with extreme prejudice. 

_Because the man betrayed me, he changed his uniform like he changed his socks—_

As was the order given to Commander Blisk by Spyglass.

Commander Blisk received orders from Spyglass in the same coding as the minions but it was different somehow. The Spectres and auto-titans around on the battlefield acted in a split-second after orders issued from it or Spyglass were confirmed. Yet, when Spyglass ordered Blisk to accomplish an objective, it felt an obligation to proceed but did not feel forced.

Commander Blisk then initiated the second wave to take down Firebase Sanjo Avon. Blisk suddenly got an idea and ordered the auto-titans to be right behind the Spectres on the ground. Spectres could be considered cannon fodder as they were mass produced on multiple installations and could be drummed up by the thousands in a day. The auto-titans packed more of a punch per unit but were obviously not as numerous as the Spectres. Blisk watched the blanket of black steel unfurl from the edge of the plain and march into the no man's land between the forward command center and the walls of the Militia stronghold.

Commander Blisk folded its golden arms. The scene reminded it of its very first real memory, its first engagement. Spyglass had finally relented (even though Blisk figured the robot was planning on letting it go to the surface,) and gave Blisk a Goblin dropship to the town of Export. Blisk had desired a confrontation with enemy Militia pilots. In briefing, Spyglass had opined that these were the most dangerous humans possible, right behind the leaders who swayed the flocks of men, women and children. Pilots were tough, fast, and deadly individuals. They were equipped with the best technological weapons and recon. They could glide into a titan and outmaneuver any auto-titan with relative ease. They were actually much like Blisk

 _But they aren't me_

For the second time, the Spectre recognized something true in the rhythmic frequencies that interrupted its thoughts. The _words_ that came through were not laced in panic or moroseness like the ones prior, but the words were somewhat truer. Blisk thought that it would be sheer folly to actually listen to these insinuations but it also thought it would not need to alert Spyglass of some technical malfunction it was having. Commander Blisk thought all was well enough.

Like when it landed in the town of Export. The Militia pilots who had come to save the town were being routed and all that remained was the final cleansing. Blisk had been brought to one of the large warehouses where Spectres and a Stryder titan had a gang of humans in bondage. Some were bleeding and had misshapen appendages to indicate broken bones. Their heart rates were stressed through the roof. A path cleared in the Spectres guarding the humans and Blisk approached the first one. They all looked and tremulously waited. Taking out these civilians would hardly be a test.

The people knew that this Spectre was different. Blisk reached down and picked up man in civilian clothes to his feet. Blisk almost used the communication code but realized the humans would not understand. It brought the shivering man closer with its golden hand said,

"Where did you send the survivors?"

Sweat gushed from all the disgusting pores in the man's face. Blisk suddenly hated the face: hated the eyes, the nose, the mouth, the curve of the jaw, and the stupid wrinkles along the forehead. Before the man could open his mouth to speak, Blisk thrust its other hand through the face. The curled, golden hand detected oxygen a second after the punch, and grey matter slipped from the knuckles. It pulled its hand back and the people in the group, particularly the women ( _fragile targets_ ) and the children ( _even more fragile targets_ ) screamed.

Dropping the corpse without ceremony, Blisk asked loudly if anyone knew where the survivors may have escaped. A woman was screaming that the brainless fool in front of Blisk was her husband as she crumpled up like a dead flower. Blisk ignored this and asked again, "can anyone without a faceful of disgusting sweat, mind telling me where your friends or family have gone?"

The cries of fear escalated until Blisk issued a blaring noise that made every human roll onto the floor with their zip-tied wrists. They pressed their dirty fingers as deep as they could into their ear canals. Blisk released the pressure of the noise but still let it hum through the air at a lower frequency.

"Tell me," Blisk said and pulled out its P2011 Hammond pistol to cock it and put the barrel against the head of the deadman's wife. "And I won't execute all of you one by one."

Commander Blisk raised its open golden hand and began to slowly roll down the robotic fingers, first the thumb, then the pinky, then the ring finger, then the middle finger —

 _Growing up, I used my fingers to count, had to use my toes after ten . . ._

"I know!" a gangly looking woman stood up. She had to struggle to speak through the high pitched noise still coming from Blisk so he turned it off. The other people looked at her with disgust.

"They ran into the hills to find the Militia."

"Is that all you know?" Blisk tilted its head.

"Yes, now please, let me and my babies go."

"Granted."

The people began to look incredulously at each other as the malicious disgust melted away. Blisk remembered this and relished it, almost as much as when it analyzed their faces after it said, "Spectre units, leave them bound and throw all of them into the ocean."

The gangly woman cried out hysterically, her hands clasped in a pleading. "Please! You said you wouldn't hurt us!"

Blisk holstered the pistol and turned back to the group of pitiful creatures. "Of course!" the special Spectre made a ricochet motion off the side of its head like it had forgotten something.

"Spectres," Commander Blisk said, "make sure to throw them all in the ocean _at the same time_."

 _A man of my word_ , said the voice inside Blisk's central processing unit. That was the first time Blisk knew to keep the voice as a secret companion.

A red highlight lit up the control panel on the forward command center. Blisk at first just thought it was the Spectres telling their commander that they were encountering resistance from the Militia as they marched upon Firebase Sanjo Avon. Of course, that was going to happen. This was a siege.

But Blisk opened the alert that came from Spectres and titans on the flank of its formation. Reports of enemy pilots emerging from the trees with hostile intentions. Blisk uplinked to video feeds of Spectres shooting at the flying men and women, usually just seconds before the "lights went out" so to speak. Blisk synthesized the feeds and reports and identified that there were seven Militia pilots with a good amount of skill pushing on the flank. They may have been trying to open up an escape route for the Militia inside the base or try and pull troops away so that the firebase may launch a counter attack at the opposite flank. If successful, they could bunch Blisk up like a wad of paper and throw

 _him, I am a him!_

it back into the jungle. The voice was getting meddlesome but Blisk did not mute it yet. Even though it did not know if it had the power to shut out the voice completely. The Special Spectre did not panic ( _because an IMC pilot does not panic_ ) and instead of making its way to the flank, designated the area under threat as a landing zone for one thousand more Spectres and eleven more auto-titans. That should be enough to quell a few pilots. Spyglass authorized the request and the titans already began to burn through the atmosphere on their way to the ground.

Blisk looked up and saw the black steel blanket slam into the walls of Firebase Sanjo Avon. Militia titans were launching wild ordinance into the air and lifting their titan weapons to shoot blindly at the invaders. They were doing a number on Spyglass's minions but Blisk input a command with a quick type of its fingers.

The Spectres in the front under heavy fire from the enemy, turned towards the titans that raced forward. The Spectres leapt onto the auto-titans and soon covered them like a swarm of ants. They rode the titans racing headlong into the Militia base. The titans then stopped right at the base and put their hands on the top of the stronghold walls. The Spectres scaled the modern siege towers and jumped right into the human ranks. Small arms fire erupted so loud and with unison that Blisk's auditory sensors picked up the chaos. Video feeds from the frontline invaders showed a tumble of gunfire, human blood, and dismembered Spectre limbs. Militia soldiers were being tossed over the walls they fought so hard to protect and the Militia titans had to retreat so that they were not swallowed by the swarm of Spectres.

If a robot could smile, Blisk would paste that on its face forever.


End file.
